


Slytherin Into Fate

by Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Hermione Granger, Co-workers, Department of Mysteries, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, F/M, Lust Potion/Spell, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slytherin, Smut, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: As they work on a new case, Draco and Hermione find themselves caught up in a lust potion incident. When Hermione finds out who's to blame she takes revenge on them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to TheMourningMadam for the opportunity to join her Once Upon A Time - Fairy Tale Fest. It was a pleasure to be part of her group of talented writers.  
This fic was loosely inspired by "Cathrine And Her Fate" by Thomas Frederick Crane. What inspired me was the fact that Cathrine had something that the king needed and couldn't get anywhere else. This brought him to marry her. I hope you like my interpretation of it.
> 
> This work was alpha\beta-ed by the magical RooOJoy. Without her, it would be a cascade of watery mistakes. Thanks, my friend. All remaining errors are my own.
> 
> Goes without saying that JK Rowling owns the HP fairytale castle, and we can only be grateful that she lets us walk its enchanted garden.
> 
> Warnings: dub-con for the presence of lust potion that may affect both of them. Light bondage. Morally dubious actions and relationship.

* * *

Simply put, it’s ethically wrong. This attraction she feels for Draco Malfoy is ill advised and illicit, but Hermione Granger cannot help it. Her heart leaps and bounds while she watches him walk across the Ministry Atrium, his stormy grey eyes set on hers. She feels her chest heat up, the warmth creeping up her neck and burning her cheeks.

With a crooked smile, he offers her the second drink of the night. After she had downed the first glass of champagne, he had suggested he should go fetch another beverage for her - to celebrate their shared victory, he had said.

His forefinger brushes lightly on her thumb as she grabs the glass of Elf-made wine, and she bites her lip while a shiver sizzles across her skin.

The way her body reacts to his presence is so inappropriate - so irrational. He has always been her weakness - the perfect, untouchable heir of the Malfoy family, the pureblood that wished for her death and called her a Mudblood, the Death Eater that opened the doors of Hogwarts to the Dark Lord’s followers, the coward who stood still while his aunt tortured and disfigured her, and the traitor that magically turned to the light at the end of the final battle. Although in recent years he has redeemed himself by becoming a precious member of the Unspeakables, he still should be the last wizard to tickle Hermione’s fancy. And yet, her body always follows its own schemes when it comes to Draco.

It’s his voice that has always made her dizzy, even when he spat venom towards her. It’s his touch that she craves when she brings herself to release under the cover of darkness, even if she has never had the chance to feel his skin against hers. It is almost as though the pull to him is magical in nature, like her core is trying to reach out to him, moved by a superior force.

Hermione is so enthralled and flustered that she doesn’t realise that Ron and Robards have joined them, the latter ranting about the small portion sizes served by the catering company. 

Blinking away the improper thoughts, she suddenly remembers the purpose of that evening. Tonight’s celebration marks another solved case thanks to the cooperation between the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ron and Hermione, both decorated Aurors, had joined forces with Unspeakable Malfoy and solved an important murder case.

“To another criminal rotting in Azkaban!" Robards lifts his glass for a toast.

"Hear, hear," Ron toasts with his own drink.

Draco turns to Hermione first. The two chalices tinkle against each other as eyes of molten steel bore into hers. Hermione's breath hitches when he smirks into his glass. She has to avert her eyes lest she chokes on her wine. Her gaze falls on the perfectly tailored robes that Draco is showcasing. His lithe body fills the expensive fabric, and her imagination runs wild as she swallows. The liquid warms her stomach, and she is grateful for Ron's distraction when he talks.

"Our next case will be a tough one. I can't believe someone is selling Lust potions. That is unethical and against the concept of consent."

Draco chuckles into his chalice. "I'm glad you are expanding your vocabulary. When did you learn the word consent, Weasel?"

Ron's blue eyes set on Draco, and he sneers. "If you must know. Sixth year. When I almost died by drinking the poison you had meant for Dumbledore. Vane had slipped a love Potion into Harry Valentine's chocolate, and I ate them. That's why we went to Slughorn. He had the liquor bottle, gave us a drink, and made a tirade about consent."

With an over exaggerated roll of her eyes, Hermione crosses her arms and watches as their banter moves to lighter subjects. It's always the same with these two. They insult each other at first and then end up making fun of someone else. In this case, Vane is the poor soul being caught in their fire. Robards laughs at their sexist jokes, and Draco glances at Hermione sideways, watching for a reaction. Hermione simply lifts her chin and glares, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing her unscrolling a thorough speech about women's rights. She has to bite her tongue not to fall for his tricks.

"Speaking of the next case," Draco says all of a sudden. "There is something interesting in the formula they're using to produce the Lust Potion. I'd like to share my findings with you."

Her Auror side snaps into attention at the mention of test results. "Yes, Ron and I can come to the Department of Mysteries after the party and-"

"Bloody Hell, Hermione. Hold your Hippogriffs!" Ron steps in with a horrified grimace on his face that crams the freckles on his nose together. "I'm going home as soon as the party is over."

Robards smooths his beard down and chuckles, his mirth giggling across his large waist. "As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I'll see the results in the morning, Unspeakable Malfoy. But by all means, Auror Granger, if you are up for some overtime, please go read his report."

A thrill of expectation warms her cheeks when Draco smiles at her. "Granger." He lures her in, his timbre low and husky when he says her name, and she shivers. "Would you like to come to my lab?"

It takes her no time to agree as her stomach ties in anxious knots.

After a quick farewell to Ron and her boss, she finds herself following the billowing tails of Draco's dress robes while they cross the threshold of the golden gates of the Ministry lifts. She wonders if it’s rude to leave the celebration early, but decides that the party was dwindling anyway.

They are both silent on the way down to Level Nine. She keeps her gaze to the tip of her red heels. Prickling to the side of her neck, her instinct tells her that his eyes are on her. Hermione doesn't dare to look.

She has been in his potion laboratory before. This is not the first time they share a workspace. But there’s something about walking the dark tiled hallway beside him after normal hours, when nobody is likely to show up, that has Hermione heaving as she steps into Draco’s reign at the Department of Mysteries. Like a king, clad in shiny robes, he saunters alongside her as they enter the circular hall that hosts the doors to the various divisions. She refuses to acknowledge the dark entryways that lead to the Hall of Prophecies and the Chamber of Death. Too many foul memories still haunt her conscience.

Draco’s office, along with all of the other Unspeakables’ cubicles, is on the other side of the hall. The only door that is always open. While she strides towards it, a hand gets ahold of the small of her back, gently pressing her body to the right. She gasps as she feels her skin tingle across her arms and neck, mentally thanking Ginny for lending her that low cut dress. He has never touched her before. Tonight, this is the second time. Hermione has never expected herself to be so responsive to his skin on hers.

_ Lies _, her mind chimes in.

“We are going to need to go to the Love Chamber for this,” he whispers as he leans down to her ear level.

They come to a halt in front of a velvety red, upholstered door. His fingers let go of her back, leaving her skin bare and cold.

With slow movements, he slides his jacket off his shoulders and hangs it on the wall rack next to the door. Immediately, two lab coats appear on it.

A faint smile on his lips tells her that he is aware that she’s ogling. His eyes flash down to her as he uncuffs the white shirt and rolls up the sleeves to reveal pale, muscular forearms. The only stain on that perfect skin is the fading Mark, but he has never tried to hide it or deny his past.

Is he purposely seducing her? What’s happening? Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that second glass. Elf-made Wine is stronger than a Muggle shiraz.

She wonders if she should say something, talk about the case, or do anything to release some of the tension building up between them.

He keeps looking at her as he wears the white coat and helps her into a smaller one. While he unlocks the chamber with a heart-shaped key and a spell she has never heard before, his eyes linger on her. Then, he pushes the door ajar.

His breath comes shaky and ragged as she moves a lock of hair behind her ear.

Hermione smiles as a faint hope sparkles in her chest. Maybe, he's attracted to her too. Surely, her mind is playing tricks on her since Draco has never shown any interest in her before.

The sight that appears beyond the crimson door gives her racing heart a moment of relief. As she enters the Love Chamber, her gaze is captured by a pink shimmer. A soft light illuminates the room as a floral scent reaches her nose. It reminds her of summer lilies and roses.

A large amphitheatre carved in stone creates a welcoming stony embrace. The ceiling drips with stalactites as though it were a cave, and in the centre, there’s a marble fountain. It blends with the rock floor and elevates to the ragged ceiling. It’s as large as a pool. Aphrodite stands in a giant clam, smiling down at them. All around her, a bucolic garden of nympheas and aquatic plants covers the dunes around the goddess of love. Among the vegetation, smaller statues of cherubs and cupids animate the scene.

The water shines with rosy reflections as it falls from the clam and gurgles at the goddess’ feet. The bottom of the pool is bear and clean, the white sand sparkling under the surface.

Hermione is in awe. She has never imagined such beauty to be hiding in the depths of London. After all the years working for the Ministry of Magic, she still has so much to discover, and it tickles her curious mind.

With a chuckle, Draco walks past her and reaches the only desk in the Chamber. It’s long and hosts boxes, decanters, glass containers like vials and round-bottom flasks, and three cauldrons.

The small potion brewing setup has nothing to envy to Muggle chemistry laboratories.

Draco leans on it, and his long fingers beckon her forth, showing her the chair beside him. Still, he doesn’t speak. There’s something in his eyes that ignites a fire within her soul, a silver shard in a sea of grey that sparks her body alight. Has he ever looked at her that way? As though he wants to devour her.

“Something the matter, Granger?” The tension is so thick that it could be sliced with a Severing Charm, but at least the silence is broken.

Her lungs. That’s the matter. They feel on fire as she struggles to breathe. “I think I had too much to drink.”

He laughs, and a crystalline sound fills her essence. “I always knew that Gryffindors could not hold their alcohol. O for an outstanding effort though. I can imagine it took a lot of courage to drink the second glass.”

Hermione giggles at his snarky comment, because let’s face it, two glasses of wine are hardly an excessive amount. And yet, she frowns and her frivolous display.

This is not normal.

Despite the strong attraction to Draco Malfoy, it should be easy for Hermione to hide it to the world. As simple as casting a Banishing Spell and bury her feelings under a facade of hate for the Slytherin. It’s always been easy for her to pretend, but not tonight. Something is pulling her strings and uncovering years of pining from the depths of her heart.

He cocks his head to the side, and a few locks of platinum hair brush his forehead as they fall sideways between his eyes. His gaze tumbles low to her cleavage.

He clears his throat before extracting his wand. “So… My analyses of the drug allowed me to isolate the various components. Once separated though, two vanish.”

"And the third?" Hermione asks, completely enthralled by the way his fingers curl around his wand as he turns to start the process and says, "Let me show you."

The way he moves his wand sings a melody within the strings of her heart. Tiny, almost imperceptible flicks of his wrist ignite and adjust the flames under a cauldron that has magically slid on the desk close to them. Another elegant movement summons a beaker and a series of test tubes. The glass glides in the air, producing a tinkling symphony to accompany the rhythm inside her chest.

His slender hands make her quiver. Taut lines contract like the chords of a singing violin while he frees his magic through his wand.

When long, strong fingers reach for the evidence box beside her, he lightly strokes her arm. The sensation is so faint that she is not sure if she has wished for his touch so vehemently that her brain has started to create fantasies. All she knows is that he leaves a trail of scorching heat to sizzle and burn across her skin.

While he carefully measures the right amount of the substance, the look in his eyes is of pure sedulous concentration. His lower lip is safely tucked between white teeth, and a frown pinches his pale eyebrows together.

Hermione releases a shaky breath as something coils tightly inside her core. As he pours the Lust Potion into the cauldron, she needs to clench her thighs together. She holds her eyes on the sizzling substance as it vibrates and sloshes around.

When Draco pronounces a spell sotto-voce, his lips curling around the letters, she loses her resolution and her gaze wanders to his mouth. He doesn’t notice her slip and observes three distinct liquids floating from the pot to the tubes.

"Auror Granger, you’ve been staring. It's distracting." His words are a hiss, dangerous and daring. He caught her, after all.

He has never openly flirted with her.

There’s something wrong here, she thinks as her head spins. Her Auror investigating skills nag at the back of her head. She should leave, but her body suggests that she should keep her seat and find out.

Cloudy irises search her face, and she feels her cheeks lighting up like a torch.

He releases a slow puff of air, his eyes fluttering shut for an instant. When he opens them, he smirks. "Relax. Merlin, Granger." With a wink, he points at the test tubes. One shines through the glass with a molten gold hue. One is pink and thick. The last one has an opaque sheen that reminds her of mother of pearl.

The second Draco reaches for the golden tube, the substance in it vanishes with a sticky pop.

"Whoever is doing this is clever," he admits. "I can't find a way to test the substances. I'm running out of samples."

Hermione stands and leans on the table to look at the empty container. Her breasts bump into his arm, and he looks down at her. His eyes are pools so deep that she could drown in them. 

"It had the same hue as Felix Felicis." Hermione manages to ponder even in the midst of her daze. Her fingers playfully smooth an invisible wrinkle on his shoulder.

He smiles and turns to her, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dim lab lights. "Yes. That's what I thought, but we can't be sure until we analyse it." His lower lip hides between his teeth as he grabs a floating curl above her collarbone, wrapping it around his finger and making it bounce. The rest of his body is immobile, like a perfect greek statue.

She inhales the scent of him, cologne and wine. It’s intoxicating. She lets her body twirl so that she can better look him in the eyes. Gulping down, she follows the faint trail of the remaining of her rational thinking. "The pearlescent one could be Amortentia or a variation of it-"

In a whoosh of fabric, he snaps out of stillness and he’s on her. Caged between his arms, it’s hard to breathe. Her body grazes his own every time her heaving expands her chest.

“Granger. What’s going on?” His eyes are burning her lips as he leans forward, stopping just a breath away.

With a frown, she raises onto the balls of her feet and erases the distance keeping them apart. “I could ask you the same thing,” she whispers on his lips.

He shivers, groaning in frustration while he pushes himself off of her.

As he starts pacing the length of the potion table, he torments his hair. When he turns, he is glowering. “Do you feel insanely attracted to me right now?”

She nods, unable to utter a word, and a victorious grin plays across his face.

Taking a step towards her, he hisses, “Me too. My skin crawls with the need of touching you. This is not normal.”

A pang of hurt blossoms inside of her at his seeming perturbation at the thought of touching her. 

Raising his hands before him, he hurries to give an explanation. “Don’t get me wrong. You are fit as fuck and the kind of woman that tickles many men’s fancy. But this is just...too much.” He jerks his hands back, hiding them inside the lab coat pockets - as close as possible to his body.

Since she, too, has been thinking that there is something different tonight, she tries to reason. “Could it be the fumes of the boiling Lust Potion?”

He shakes his head. “I analysed it before and nothing happened. Whatever this is, it started during the reception.”

With a gasp, she covers her mouth with shaky hands. “We’ve been drugged.”

He blinks. ”This confirms my suspicions. The criminal is someone on the inside. Look at this!” Long strides bring him beside her as he reaches for the third test tube. His fingers vibrate while he brings the pink liquid between them. Unlike the other two components, this doesn’t vanish. The substance soars upwards, out of the glass tube and floats to the central fountain where it sloshes down into the rosy waters.

Hermione can feel her heartbeat in her fingertips, overwhelmed by the presence of him. His body is so close that she can bask in his heat. Would it be so wrong if she could just let go for once and enjoy him?

Her conscience screams that it wouldn’t be right. She is the one with feeling. She would be taking advantage of him, and hurting herself in the process when a new day comes and brings normality back.

She trembles as he moves her hair aside to expose her neck. “Is there something we both drank or touched?" He traces the line of her jaw as he speaks.

“The wine.”

As on cue, a bottle of Elf-made red appears on the table beside them. There’s a note attached to it: _ By now, you must have figured that this bottle was spiked. Enjoy. _

Whoever the suspect is, they are toying with them. A cruel prank on Hermione’s heart.

“We need a bezoar.” Flushed, she takes a few steps away from the heat of his body. Immediately, she stops, her soul aching to go back to Draco.

She dares a look in his eyes, and he smiles, calmly leaning on the counter. “If they used the Love Potion from the Chamber’s Fountain, there’s no antidote that works. This room is always locked for a reason.”

_ Fuck _. He’s right. It’s like he’s reading her mind when he reasons further. “I read a book about aphrodisiacs once. It said there’s no cure for whatever substance is hidden in the Love Chamber. Common love potions are counteracted by a bezoar or an antidote. But lust potions are different, especially this one.” He takes a few steps in the direction of the pink pool, and Hermione follows, her body pulled by an invisible thread of desire. She can’t bear to be far from him. It’s like her mind has already given up resistance.

Some rationality still stops her from reaching out to touch him and leads her further into the Chamber, until she stands before the naked goddess. The floral scent radiating from the water makes her dizzy. To steady her racing mind, she picks up the subject where he left it. “Once Lust Potions are in the system, the only way to get rid of them is…”

She doesn’t have the courage to speak the words. Saying it out loud would be like whispering a plea.

“Go on.” He’s right behind her, she can feel her hair tickling her shoulder with every one of his shallow breaths.

“...Giving in to the desire.” She dares to spin around and what she finds in his eyes sends another wave of dizziness to her head. Draco’s grey eyes are sinfully dark, full of needy lust.

His arms snake around her waist, and if he were trying to steady her, he fails because his hands on her make everything worse. “If a book said so, it must be true.”

She has no argument against it, nor does she care to find one. Her fate is sealed by his lips on her. They are hard and possessive, but soft and tender while they try to unlock her own.

“This doesn’t feel right.” She lies when he opens his mouth to suck in some air.

A low groan reverberates from his mouth to her core as he moves a hand up her spine until it’s tangled in her curls. “Hush, it's going to be okay. Just listen to me.” Draco’s forehead pushes against hers, his long nose cool on her cheek. “Don't overthink. Let all of those thoughts go.”

Then, he’s kissing her again with softer urgency than before. She responds eagerly, opening her lips to him. With the last bit of rationality, she turns her head to a side, interrupting his tongue’s attempt to stroke hers.

“We should fight this.”

A growl suggests her that he won’t, and his words prove it. “Just feel it, don't struggle.”

With a sigh, her body, much like her mind, surrenders to the desire of him. She presses herself flush against him, her hands grabbing the lapels of the coat.

“That's my girl,” he whispers as she slides the coat along his broad shoulders and crushes her mouth on his.

The white piece of clothing pools at his feet and is soon joined by hers. Once her hands are free again, she loses them in his soft hair. She pulls him down to her level so that she can explore his mouth properly. Her tongue licks his lower lip, and a hum from the back of his throat tells her to go deeper. The instant their tongues touch, he grips her hips and pulls her against his hard length. The sensation causes a mewling sound from her chest.

With languid, excruciating fumbling, Draco brushes Hermione’s back. He slowly raises his fingers to the back of her neck and starts playing with the knot that’s keeping her dress together.

Maybe she’s too impatient, but her hands abandon the tangles she’s reduced his hair to and reach behind to unravel the bow. Perhaps, she can hide her eagerness behind the magic of the Lust Potion. She can feel his smirk on her lips as the dress falls down.

To her dismay, he lets her lips go to take a step back, leaving her panting. She doesn’t know what to do with herself as he starts undoing his tie so she lifts her hands to touch her swollen lips.

With charcoal eyes, he takes in all of her. She’s wearing nothing but her black G-string and high heels, and it’s easy for her to see how much he likes it. While he battles with the buttons at the neck of his shirt in his rush to free himself of the garment, she gives him a coy smile, half hidden by her fingers.

“Antsy much?” she teases, well aware that she's as guilty as he appears.

He hums, his eyes briefly glaring at her as he struggles out of the white Oxford. “Why don’t you give me a spin while I work here?” His belt doesn’t seem too keen to unfasten. “I’ve never hated a full suit so much,” he hisses with a growl.

The confession makes her titter. With a confidence that she usually keeps for more formal occasions, she puts her hand at her hips, pushing her perky breasts forward, giving him a better view.

“Turn around, Granger. Let me see that Auror trained arse.” His plea doesn’t move her, and she gestures her refusal with her forefinger while she mimics a _ no _with silent lips.

He raises an eyebrow at her, finally freeing himself from the belt. “Do it, witch.”

His trousers are easily unbuttoned, the zipper following swiftly.

“Make me,” she dares him as she steps backwards, completely forgetting about the fountain edge behind her. When her calves hit the cold marble, she gasps.

Draco’s eyes widen, and he leaps forward with his hands stretched towards her in an attempt to catch her while his trousers are still halfway down his legs.

In a heap of limbs and clothes, they both fall into Aphrodite’s fountain, the pink liquid splashing all around them as Hermione hits the bottom with her bum and he crushes on her.

When they emerge, they spare only a brief laugh before they lose themselves into the carnal attraction sparked by the touching of their skin.

The water is warm and soothing, the floral scent inebriating her senses almost as much as his hands on her back while he moves her on top of him. The magic of the liquid welcomes them as a new wave of desire crushes on her when their centres meet, still divided by too many layers of fabric.

The fountain is shallow enough that he can lie down, propping up on his elbows as she straddles him. His wet undervest adheres tightly to his torso, and Hermione ogles at the sheer perfection of his muscle lines.

With an animalistic gaze, he lets his hands wander to her underwear. He tugs at it with a devilish grin and rips the thin fabric. She bites her lip at the friction caused by him slipping the small piece of clothing from between her thighs.

Placing her hands on his chest, she lowers herself to his ear and whispers a wandless Vanishing Spell that leaves them both bare, her heels and the rest of his clothing gone.

"There. That's how it's done, Malfoy," she mocks his clumsiness at stripping them both. Then, she pushes herself up and observes his face. His eyes are closed, a crooked smile across his luscious lips. There’s nothing keeping them apart now.

The thick length of him feels like heaven between her legs, and she can't stop her hips from starting a slow rocking motion. His eyes open wide, and his smirk widens as she slides her centre on him.

Having him under her control is a powerful drug, and she's feeling playful when she jokes. "I thought Purebloods knew a spell or two to make sex easi-"

He lifts a warning eyebrow. Fisting a hand in her curls, he tugs her face down and shuts her up with his lips. His tongue immediately works wonders inside her mouth.

Hermione grinds faster and harder, helped by his hands that are firmly holding her down and against him. She's sure she'll have bruises tomorrow, and the thought of having proof of this night enhance her pleasure.

Their short, heaving breaths fill the Chamber of Love, the only other sounds coming from the small waterfall at the feet of the goddess. She notices that the rosy water doesn't wash away her wetness, but the more she moves the more it becomes slick and lubricating, enhancing the friction of his cock on her clit.

As the coil inside her core twists deliciously, he sits up. His muscles move her easily while he brings them to a standing position.

Arms secured on her buttocks, he walks them back to the centre, where Aphrodite stands inside her shell, on top of a hill covered with water plants. His grin is wicked as he pushes her against the moss covered stone and hisses, "I'll show you a fun spell…"

Turning her around, he keeps her still with one hand while the other touches the plants beside her with daintiness, as though he's caressing Nature herself. Immediately, long vines grow around her arms and waist, pulling her up and out of the water. A yelp of surprise and excitement bubbles out of her. Her body stops in a little nook, and it's comfortable enough for her to rest her knees on and let her behind stick out, in front of Draco's face.

She dares a look down and behind her shoulder and smiles at the appreciation he shows while drinking in her exposed sex.

His hand is still skimming the vegetation, and with a little frown on his forehead, he grows two more vines that bind the lower part of her legs, wrapping around her feet and spiralling up to her calves. Gently, the plants pry her legs apart, and she feels her lips spreading a little, the sensation sending a shiver up her spine. Is he doing this with magic? Or is it just a natural response of her bound limbs?

When he grabs her butt cheeks, she closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation of his fingers squeezing and tracing the roundness. He slithers closer to her centre but stops short of her inner lips. He tortures her for what seems like an eternity, feathering the length of her sex and avoiding her clit.

She’s like clay in his hands, and he moulds her in the shape of a whimpering beggar.

“Please, Draco.” She’s shameless as she wiggles her body, trying to track down his fingertips and bring them where she wants them.

“I’ve always wanted to make you beg, Granger,” he admits, and a spark of hope warms her heart. Although it could be another effect of the potion talking.

“I don’t know if I want to make you come. I’m enjoying this view of your arse. What if the effects of the Potion wear off, and you leave me here with blue balls?”

She almost sobs and contemplates confessing that she’s always wanted him. She settles for a half truth. “I promise I won’t. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I doubt I’ll be able to stay away. Please!”

He chuckles lightly as he enters her with two fingers.

“Oh, yes.” The sensation is so gratifying as he massages the roof of her vagina that all her muscles give out. Thankfully, the vines keep her from tumbling down on him.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous,” he compliments her as he brings a finger to stroke her clit.

His circling motions, inside and out of her, drive her mad. Hermione rocks her hips in rhythm with him. The coiling and jolts of pleasure in her core blind her as they intensify. It doesn’t take her long to reach an earth shattering orgasm, her head abandoning itself backwards and her mouth slack in a silent scream. All she whispers is his name as her walls flutter and contract around his fingers.

As she slowly comes down from her high, she notices that there’s something tickling her ear. It’s one of the vines that is tied to her body. It has climbed from her arm, and a flower bloomed among her curls as she came. The scent is sweet and delightful, and she wonders if he did that or it’s the magic of the chamber that’s reacting to the pleasure unleashed from her.

Draco slips his fingers out of her and grazes her back, up her ribs and sneaking around to touch her breasts. All it takes for her to feel the delicious aching between her legs again are a few pinches to her nipples, followed by light touches.

He speaks from below her, “I’ll let you go now. You better not try to escape me.”

“I won’t,” she admits as the vines recede from her and she plummets backwards. His arms are ready to hold her tight and catch her. The bloom in her hair detaches with a snap and stays in her curls, she can feel the velvety petals on the sensitive skin behind her ear.

He’s fast as he spins her around and traps her between his hot body and the wall. There’s a question in his eyes as he reaches between them to grab his erection.

As an answer, she holds his shoulders and pulls herself up so she can wrap her legs around his torso and grind her hips against him.

That’s all he needs. He thrusts into her in one urgent movement, and his size makes her gasp. The pain is glorious as her body stretches to accommodate him.

“Sorry,” he says with a sheepish but satisfied smirk while his hands grab her hips.

He starts to move slowly, slipping out of her and plunging back in. Her gaze falls down where their bodies meet, and she’s mesmerized by the way his hard length disappears inside of her. He’s the one fucking her, but she feels like she’s somehow controlling his pleasure as she’s clenching the muscles of her core. He groans and breathes deeply as he quickens his rhythm.

“Look at me, Granger.”

She complies and loses herself into the darkness of his irises. The grey twirls and swirls like the sky before the storm. Her heart skips a beat.

The position is perfect, and the tip of his cock hits the most sensitive spot inside of her as he drives deep. Another spiral of pleasure builds inside of her.

His thrusts become deeper and more erratic, and his grip on her flesh intensifies.

Everything Draco does to her body ignites an overwhelming tempest inside of Hermione, and she rides the waves of pleasure that bring her to a second, exploding climax.

With a low groan, he looks at her while she comes, his eyes enhancing the sensation.

He continues to move inside of her erratically, for a short while and then stills, reaching his own finish.

She slides her hands down and holds his waist as she abandons her head on his shoulder. His chest heaves against hers, tickling her breasts.

With the corner of her eye, she notices that there are two more flowers tangled in her curls and cascading down her shoulder. One nymphaea bloom per orgasm. She smiles.

* * *

Simply put, she's fucked.

Hermione lets out a longing sigh as she waits for the analytical spell to produce a result. She observes, unseeing, while a green flash scans the Elf-made wine bottle that she has taken as evidence from the Love Chamber the night prior.

While she's daydreaming about Draco's hands on her body, Ron enters their shared office at the DMLE.

"Hi, Herm- bloody hell! You look like a herd of Centaurs stomped you."

She can't deny it, but to be honest, he doesn't look better. His blue eyes are rimmed in red and black.

"Have you looked at your reflection this morning, Ronald?" she quips back.

Scratching the back of his head, he gives her a blushing smile. "Sorry. The wine knocked me out last night. I haven't been this hungover since Harry's stag party."

Hermione is not ready to talk about what the wine did to her the night prior, so she starts what is supposed to sound like small talk. In reality, she's investigating.

"That Elf-made concoction got me drunk as well. I didn't know it could be that strong. Did it have any other effect on you?"

Ron yawns before answering, "No. Just made me sleepy. I went home as soon as you left with Malfoy. I passed out the second my head touched the pillow. What did Draco show you, by the way? Something big?"

Hermione coughs and chokes on her saliva. She turns to her desk as she fights the flushing creeping on her skin.

"Yeah, he figured out something interesting. I'm still researching. I'll let you know as soon as my analysis is done. In that moment, the green spell finishes its job and a long series of words appears on a blank sheet of paper.

With a frown, she reads the test results before her.

With a groan of pain, Ron comes beside her and stretches. "Merlin's old arse, I really shouldn't have let Malfoy open the last bottle of wine."

Hermione's eyes shrink to the size of two slits. “Were you there when he opened it?”

His gaze bounces among her, the bottle, and the test results.

“Yes. It was still sealed with elven magic. He poured us all a glass and then we walked back to you, why?” Bless his oblivious soul, he seems to be unable to connect the dots.

“Nothing, just making sure it wasn’t spiked or something.”

He blinks in confusion. “Okay. I’m off to the coffee shop down the street. I need a toast, or a meat pie, I don't know yet. Would you like me to bring you back some breakfast?”

“No, thanks.” She waves him bye, forcing an affectionate smile.

Seething, Hermione goes back to her report and thinks about a plan to take revenge.

Draco will pay for his low, Slytherin tactics.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco adjusts his tie and winks at his reflection. He looks fit, ready for his date with Hermione.

He's very pleased about the latest turn of events. Two days after the night in the Love Chamber, and he has already secured another outing with her. Apparently, she really can't stay away from him as she had mentioned while he was driving her crazy.

His cock twitches in his pants as he remembers how she came around his fingers.

Releasing a slow breath, he slips on an expensive black suit jacket and turns away from the mirror.

Since he's a perfect gentleman, when he strives for it, he summons a bouquet of lily pad flowers that comes flying in from the open window. Luckily, the ponds on the manor grounds have plenty of blooms to spare.

He walks out of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace almost skipping. With a quick look around, he scans the restaurant. He's impressed by what Hanna Longbottom nèe Abbott did with the place. He almost regrets missing the grand opening a month ago. Almost, but he appreciates the elegant furniture and the upper class atmosphere that he can breathe in here. The new establishment is as far from its former shaggy self as a Slytherin's sense of decor is to a Gryffindor's.

Hannah guides him to his reserved table, and to his surprise, Hermione is already there, her bee-stung lips curled around a chalice of champagne. She looks delicious in her black strapless dress, her riotous curls cascading down her shoulders.

"My deepest apologies for being late." He offers her the bouquet, and she graces him with a breathtaking smile.

"Nonsense. I arrived earlier than the time we agreed upon. Please sit and toast with me. Hannah already poured two glasses of this delicious Möet & Chandon." She places the flowers on the table with delicate care and then indicates the bottle of Muggle champagne and a lonely glass resting next to the ice bucket.

She doesn't need to tell him twice. He walks around her and proceeds to accommodate himself on the chair opposite hers. Whatever floral perfume she's wearing, it's inebriating. It reminds him of the scent that filled the Love Chamber as he ravished her.

Her deep embery eyes sparkle in the candlelight as she raises her chalice towards him. He gladly lifts his own drink and meets her in the middle, the melody of glass against glass echoing around them.

"To us," he whispers and drinks the whole thing in one sip.

"To us," she echoes and does the same.

His heart accelerates as she smiles again, her fingers caressing the nymphaea flowers.

"Interesting choice, Draco."

He flicks his eyebrows once and opens his mouth to tell her that he will forever cherish lily pads, but she doesn't give him the chance. With a rather violent thud, her glass is placed on the table.

She crosses her hands under her chin and leans on her elbows. The wicked grin across her face, makes him swallow his snarky words.

"So, Draco. I already know the answer to this question, but as an Auror, I'm obligated to ask. Are you the Lust Potion Criminal?”

Something in the back of his mind tells him to slither out of those deep waters that seem to have flooded the conversation as fast as he can. Unfortunately, something else keeps him from following his own advice. “No, why are you asking?”

She ignores his query and makes one of her own. “Do you have any suspicion?"

"My boss. He has unrestricted access to the Chamber, and he didn't log in the last time I saw him in there." He frowns because he is not yet ready to disclose that detail. He has been waiting to have more evidence against him.

"Very well. I'll look into it. Next question. Did you spike my wine with a Lust Potion at the party?”

“No.” He doesn't even have time to think of an answer that his mouth has already blurted out the truth. His eyes widen as a nagging thought tickles his mind. “What have you done to me?”

With doe eyes and a fake innocent smile, she summons something without the aid of her wand and dangles a vial of Veritaserum before him.

He can feel his eyes glowering as he understands that he's fucked.

“Imagine my surprise when I analysed the bottle and found nothing. Why did you tell me we had been drugged?” Apparently, her interrogation is not done.

He contemplates leaving, but that would jeopardize the slim chance he still knows he has.

“I technically never told you we were drugged. I might have hinted to it, but you came to the conclusion yourself. I also never said it was the wine. I just summoned the bottle after you suggested it.” He squirms in his chair. He wills her to understand that her body reactions in the Love Chamber were dictated by her own free will. The only “help” she had was from his sexy arse and his carefully placed hints.

Hermione scoffs, her hands curling into fists above the tablecloth. "Snake until the end, right Malfoy? But you will soon learn that you can't wake the sleeping lion and expect to not be mauled."

"Oh, I already learned. Trust me. Can we please drop the subject?" He knows he's scrambling now. Fuck his reputation and the Malfoy's name. He would crawl at her feet if it meant she'd end this wicked game.

No luck. "Why did you pretend that you had been drugged too? Was it just to save your face in case this charade of yours wouldn't have worked and I turned you down?"

“Yes. Fuck!" He didn't want to admit that. Somewhere deep inside him, he finds an ounce of snark. It's the truth so nothing stops him from telling it. "I never drugged you, Hermione. What happened was because we both wanted it. You, on the other end, have just raped my fucking mind.” He points at the Veritaserum.

She smirks, and she's unapologetically glorious. His heart knows she's perfect, his dick wiggles in his trousers while his mind is seething.

“Correct, and I’m not done. Why did you do it?”

“Because I love you.” Once again, he cannot stop the words from leaving his heart. With a frustrated groan, he brings his hands to cover his mouth. “Fuck!”

Hermione blinks, her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink.

He was defeated on every front. Might as well surrender and uncover the last secret he has been hiding under years of pining.

"There's another reason. A very good one. When I was fiftee-"

"I won't hear it tonight." The fire in her eyes warns him.

"Please." He's an idiot for trying.

Her eyes soften, and she chuckles. "I've always wanted to make you beg…"

Now she's mocking him, but it feels nice. Maybe, he can still win her over.

"Granger..." he pleads with his eyes.

She shakes her head, denying him a final chance at redemption. "Perhaps, on our next date."

With a painful flatter, his heart comes alive in his chest. "Will you give me another chance? Really?"

The small dimple at the side of her mouth tells him that he needs not to worry. Her words confirm it. “You are lucky. But I have a condition-”

"Luck has nothing to do with this, love- Fuck!" Fuck this! He needs to keep his mouth shut. "How long will the Veritaserum last? I really don't like this."

Hermione laughs out loud, and he shortly follows her.

* * *

The stag party has been a success, and Draco is blissfully drunk as he should be. It was his night.

He scans the sitting room of his Manor. Blaise and Theo were cutting cigars to prep them while Potter and Weasley were filling everyone's tumblers with firewhisky. Being both wizards, it was beyond Draco's drunk mind's comprehension why they both stood up and went to the liquor cellarette.

Blaise hands him a cigar of the finest magical Irish quality.

"So, lover boy. You never told us how you and Hermione started dating. She's always been very secretive about it, even with us." Potter sits on the sofa and hands out the liquor.

Theo snickers. "Yeah, tell them!"

"Theo, shut up!" Draco warns him.

Blaise chuckles around his cigar. "They deserve to know. They'll be the equivalent of your brothers-in-law soon."

"Blaise, fuck off." Draco is not joking, and his glaring eyes convey his irritation.

"What are you hiding, mate?" The Boy-Who-Can't-Mind-His-Own-Fucking-Business puts his nosey, sticky fingers in the jar of the inappropriate questions.

"Relax, Potter, it's not that bad." Draco swishes his wand around and lights everyone's smoke. After puffing out a thick cloud, he finally gives in. "So, for my fifteenth birthday, my parents took me to Italy, and Blaise and I spent the summer going to every Fattucchiera, Seer, we could find. They were all Muggle con artists, of course, and we had a blast scaring them with some innocent displays of magic."

To Draco's irritation, Blaise interrupts his story. "Oh, it was brilliant. One of them called us devils and started throwing Holy water at us, tracing that weird sign that resembles a cross that some Muggles do."

Draco downs his whisky shot and continues. "Yes, Blaise. Shut it. Anyway, one of those Fattucchiere was the real deal. A Seer witch that foretold my future. She said that my mind, body, and soul would soon be consumed by the thought of the one and only person that had something no other had. The only woman that could challenge me mentally would manifest in the shape of a curly brunette with a dirty heritage."

Potter and Weasley glare in silence. Weasley turns crimson at the mention of his best friend's blood status.

Draco huffs. "Weasel, don't look at me like that. I am merely reporting the old hag's words. That's what gave away that she was talking about Granger. That's the reason I pursued her. She's the only one that fits the description. To be completely honest, I always had a soft spot for her curves."

Theo flicks some ash off his cigar and sits back in his recliner. "That's not how he got the girl!" Before Draco can stop him, the little fucker gives a colourful rendition of his Lust Potion charade and how Hermione found out.

Potter gapes at him, the cigar hanging loose from his parted lips and threatening to fall and burn his groin. Weasley's face colour touches every hue of the rainbow before he sputters, "This is why she was acting weird the morning after the reception!"

Draco cocks his head to the side, unable to stop himself from taking the piss out of Weasley. "Fifty points to Gryffindor! It took you only five years to get it! At least we solved the case and arrested the former Head of The Department of Mysteries." _ And I got the promotion of my life that granted me the Head position _, he added in his head.

Harry stands up and starts pacing the sitting room.

They are all too drunk for this. It won't end well if Draco doesn't stop this trial of his intentions soon.

"How could you have done something so low and…" Harry stops in his tracks and looks at him with a disappointed look that somehow hurts him. "Never mind. You are a Slytherin, not a good person. Godric, did Hermione just forgive you for it or did you trick her into it too?"

Draco grimaces at the accusation, and Blaise and Theo howl in laughter. "Fuck no, she didn't just forgive him! Why do you think she keeps a bottle of Veritaserum next to the firewhisky? Cut him some slack, Potter."

"I was wondering why it was there…" Weasley scratches his head.

Blaise picks up where Theo left the story of Hermione's revenge. "Your Gryffindor fair lady actually drugged him. She fed him Veritaserum and made him confess the whole thing. She agreed to keep dating him under the condition that he promise to drink the potion if she ever suspects that he is up to no good again."

Potter tilts his head like a confused puppy once, twice, and then he laughs, and Draco knows he has forgiven him. Shortly after, the other three fuckers join in and make fun of him. Draco's wounded ego hurries to specify, "She never actually did it a second time!"

"Are you so sure?" Weasel asks.

"Do you think she would tell you if she did?" Harry sputters between a snort and a chuckle.

"You are a fool." Theo shrugs.

"Love blinded you, mate." Blaise states with finality.

Draco sinks in his leather recliner, sulking about his friends' rudeness. A smirk creeps across his lips, nonetheless. In less than a week’s time he would be married to the only woman that was meant for him. He was willing to swear his love under Veritaserum or any other potion she might decide to give him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts on this ethically wrong tale ;)


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